Professional Opinions
by Hestia01
Summary: For his next case, Harry Dresden is joined by a fellow Chicagoan with a knack for the supernatural


Professional Opinions

Harry Dresden, Wizard for Hire, is called onto the scene of a mysterious attack. His frequent contact and friend, Lieutenant Murphy, lets him under the police tape to get a close up look. As she does so, an older gentleman with a camera and tape recorder slung over his shoulder sneaks under to take a peek himself.

As usual when he's discovered nosing around, he puts on a winning smile, tips his hat and says, "Carl Kolchak, INS. Mind if I-?"

"I do, actually," Dresden replies, taking Kolchak by the arm to lead him away. "No press. Bye now."

The quasi-retired news reporter scowls, pounding the air with his fist as he's escorted from the area. He scans the area thoughtfully, looking for a space to sneak through. At least to get close enough to overhear...

"What a mess..." he hears the woman utter in disgust.

"What kind of vandals would target an abandoned building?" Dresden answers. "Look here, the beams! They look like they were hit with a battering ram, just cracked almost right through."

Murphy examines the damage as well. "You're sure this is vandalism? It's not some of your...?"

"Some of my what?"

"Well, you know, _your_ kind of stuff. Creatures or monsters, oooo!."

Dresden smiles, "Now, I didn't think you believed in all that. I'm crazy, remember?"

"I never said that. You're not crazy, just..."

"Just what?"

"Unusual."

They venture further into the building, out of earshot of the old man, making notes on what they find. As they come out, Kolchak stops them. "A word if you please, for the press? What exactly happened here? Is it true that there's been a spike in this kind of thing in recent weeks? And has been, in almost a cyclical pattern, tending to occur this time of year?"

To his dismay, Murphy and Dresden mutter "No comment," and walk past without even looking at him.

"The public has a right to know!" He cries uselessly. Still undeterred, he follows them closely, hoping for a clue of how to get in on the story.

"So the astounding Dresden can't make heads or tails of this, either," Murphy mutters disdainfully.

Harry grimaces, shoving his hands in his pockets at the surge of bitter memories, "The Astounding Dresden was my father, don't call me that. Not even if you're joking."

Murphy falls back, looking chilled, as he plunges forward.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"Just forget it." Hearing those words thrown around like that make bile rise up in his throat. Suddenly he's eleven years old again, watching his father die. There's nothing he can tell Murphy that would do justice to what his father had been, so he lets it slide. She didn't know.

Kolchak scribbles the name Dresden in his note pad, hoping it will come in handy later. Knowing when to move along, he heads back out to work on his so far non-existent story.

Back in his home/office, Harry Dresden goes to the lab to read up on a few things. As he stands hunched over a book concerning easily provoked spirits, particularly ones linked to structural damage, Bob swirls out of his skull into view.

"Does this mean we have a job?"

"Looks like it, Bob, we'll see."

The ghost casually saunters around the lab, reading over Harry's shoulder. "Well, I hope it's profitable. We have a roof to keep over our heads, you know."

"Thanks for reminding me," Harry mutters sarcastically. "Here's something..." he taps a page thoughtfully. He picks up the book, scoops up Bob's skull as well, and exits the lab.

Once he's out in the storefront, he hears the bell over the door jingle, and the man from the press he'd shunted aside is letting himself in.

"Harry Dresden, Wizard, eh?"

He has his response he saves for nutcases or the misinformed ready: "I don't teach magic tricks, and I don't do birthday parties. Scram."

"Oh, no, I'm not after anything like that. Well...if you'd been around when I was a real reporter—what times we'd have had!" Kolchak chuckles good-naturedly. "You see, I've been in this business a while, and I've seen plenty of strange things that don't exactly get told the way they happened. Perhaps you're familiar with that?"

This gets a wary nod out of Dresden. He stands firmly, regarding the older man, then steps aside. "All right, come on in. What can I do for you?"

Unfortunately, Bob had been led out of the lab by his skull like a dog on a leash, and consequently walked through the wall separating the lab and the front room. Realizing too late there was a client in the room, he gasps and makes a quick retreat. Much to the wizard's surprise, his guest didn't look too perturbed by it.

"Got yourself a ghost, I see. Friendly?"

"At times," Harry allows, taking further stock of this man. He's not throwing around ridiculous requests based on his "wizard" shingle, he seems utterly unflummoxed by Bob, and he's claimed he's seen plenty already...

"Sit down," Harry offers, still looking the reporter up and down. "Can I get you a drink? Tea? Water? We're, uh, not too fancy but we get by."

"Tea would be fine, I'm not too particular myself," Kolchak tells him, taking a seat on the sofa. "And tell your friend he can come out, I don't scare easily."

Harry fills the tea kettle and gives him a strange look. "He's shy."

At this, Bob steps back in the room in the manner he had before. "I am not shy, I'm just used to being hidden away." His eyes fall on their guest, and they widen in recognition. "Well, well, Carl Kolchak! Has it really been this long?" He strides across the room, stopping short before he tries to greet the man in more conventional means. Being intangible, he simply holds his hand out and Kolchak imitates the gesture, suggesting a detached handshake.

"Hrothbert, you old poltergeist, I thought that was you! Got passed on, huh?" Kolchak looks around the space appreciatively, "I like this place better, and better company, I expect. That fancy old place was fine and all, but seemed hard and cold and stuffy. Now this! This has character."

"Oh, you know. Not that I have a choice in the matter," Bob drawls. "What with the landlord hounding us for rent, the High Council watching us like hawks, and everything else..." he fusses as is his habit, fluttering around the room, nonetheless looking pleased to see an old friend.

The old man grins comfortably, "Well, it's what we all put up with, like it or not." He wheels around, getting a good look at the resident wizard, "And you! You're really him, the man himself! You're Hrothbert's boy, aren't you?" He takes a step back, holding a hand up, altering it a bit more respectfully, "Apprentice, rather. I got a case back when you were out of the country, seeing the world and such as the kids do these days. Oh, the things this fella would tell me..." he trails off significantly, sharing some raised eyebrows and a significant grin with Bob.

Harry points between the reporter and his ghost, "You...you know each other? You let yourself be _seen?_" he growls at Bob.

"Hold your horses, kid, it's all right, I never breathed a word of this to anybody. Like I said, no one believes me when I see things anyway. There was an incident out your way about ten years ago, nothing major, but I ran into Bob here and we found we didn't bite."

Dresden is still trying to think what the man had meant when he'd called him Bob's "boy". Had Bob really spoken that fondly of him, that he'd talked about him as though he was his own son? The tea kettle whistles, snapping him out of his thoughts. He starts a pot of Earl Grey and sets a timer for it so it doesn't over-steep.

"Okay, so what can we help you with?"

"What really happened on those sites? Huh? You think it was just dumb kids trashing the place, or is there something else at work?"

Bob speaks up, moving "He seemed to have an idea when you arrived. Perhaps you could share your thoughts on the matter."

It's not often that Bob gets to take part in a consultation like this, Harry isn't sure what to think. Still, he hands over his book that's propped open to the page he was on. "What do you know about this guy? A bear god? Looks like he's not too shy about shaking a few buildings up."

With a look of knowing certainty, Kolchak dismisses it after a glance, "Machimenito? Nah, isn't him."

"You're sure?"

"Positive," he nods shortly, remembering his brush with the deity. He loosens his tie at the thought.

Harry narrows his eyes at the older man distrustfully. "All right, says you. Still, it would be worth checking out." He hands the reporter his tea and they sip, eyeing each other. Bob hovers between them, unsure what to do about their Mexican standoff approach.

"Harry, I'm inclined to believe Mr. Kolchak. He seems quite certain, and you shouldn't waste time or..." he gives the wizard's hockey stick a glance, "resources unnecessarily."

"He barely looked at it, Bob."

Kolchak puts down his mug, looking irritated, "Come on, Dresden, everyone knows that Machimenito is sealed up down in that marina on the other end of town. It's cold enough there year round to keep him in permanent hibernation. I saw the blasted thing, I convinced the builders to do it."

This gets Harry's attention; the man certainly knew the key to dealing with it. "Hibernation, huh?"

"Well, it's a bear god. Makes sense, doesn't it? Which is why he's not the one you're going to pin this business on. If you still want to make sure, just don't forget to drive in a herd of buffalo to get on his good side."

Still not entirely convinced, Dresden taps the page in the book, "He comes out during the summer months, these bouts of 'vandalism' only occur during summer months...what else does that?"

Finishing his tea, Kolchak makes a wild stab, "Well, you tell me! You're the expert, I'm just a guy who's seen a few things. Now if there's a story in it..."

Bob grins over at him, "You'll have exclusive rights." Turning to his owner, he adds, "You don't have anything to lose. If the culprit is caught and collared, justice is served, the city safe yet again, we get paid., and Mr. Kolchak gets his story. In other words, everybody wins."

Harry ponders, not caring for this at all. It seems whenever he gets an outsider involved, more often than not they end up in danger. The last thing he needs is a liability when he's trying to crack a case. He gets up and sets the cups in the sink, looking over his shoulder as Bob and Kolchak quietly catch up with each other. Bob's hands are zipping through the air as he relates their most recent 'adventures', his voice rising and falling dramatically, both men snigger appreciatively together. Harry shakes his head with a reluctant smile; Bob's human interactions are limited, naturally he'd welcome someone new to talk to. And if this "someone" happened to know a thing or two about the supernatural, and could actually help...still, the last thing a guy like Harry Dresden needs is to endanger a civilian. Again. He fills the sink with water, hoping to provide enough cover noise that he won't look like he's eavesdropping. He strokes Bob's skull protectively, a gesture not missed by its owner.

Bob can tell that Harry still doesn't trust Kolchak, he knows him well enough to read him that much. Ever since he'd been skull-napped a few months ago, Harry had tightened security significantly, and often took to carrying the skull around with him to keep it in sight, even taking it to bed with him.

Harry starts to carry it with him as he paces the room out of habit, when he hears a sharp gasp from the ghost as he felt the tug. He sets it back down on the counter, gives it a pat, and with Bob watching him curiously he puts on a little show of dusting it before going back to what he'd been doing. The silver-haired man tsks and rolls his eyes, still somewhat touched by the security he brings to the young wizard. He turns to his reporter friend, who'd watched the exchange with a keen eye and a questioning look.

"He's been like that for weeks now. I was taken...and let's just say unpleasantness followed. I'd rather not get into details."

"He cares about you," Kolchak observes. Bob nods with a tight, inward smile. "As much as you care about him, isn't that right?"

Bob's smile grows as he thinks of this. "He's my..." then he breaks off, afraid of saying too much. "Well, you did call him my boy a minute ago. I suppose that's as accurate as anything." He finds his gaze drawn to his former student, a loving look in his eyes. "We're all we have."

Both Bob's expression and what he just said shake Harry, who'd stopped washing the dishes just in time to hear him say that. He suddenly feels awkward. It was true, absolutely true. It was at the core of their relationship, draped in snide remarks as it may be. So why did Harry feel as though he was blushing? He finds himself wondering if he'd ever told his oldest friend how much he meant to him. _He knows, even that news guy knows_, but that's no reason not to come out and say it every once in a while. _Not now, not in front of an outsider. But later. _He finds himself absently petting Bob's skull, drawing comfort from it, silently vowing he'd never let anything happen to it again.

Clearing his throat loudly to get their attention, Harry addresses Bob and Kolchak. "All right, Mr. Kolchak, you've got a story. You're getting into this of your own free will, there's no guarantee of anything, understand? It'll probably be dangerous, and you'd be better off staying put, but if you insist on getting into trouble-"

"Then you found the right partner for the job," Bob finishes with a teasing look.

"I still don't think this is a good idea..."

Bob has just about had enough of his friend's doubts, and is getting tempted to walk through him to get his attention. "Harry, don't you _read?_ Haven't you any idea who this man _is ?_ Doesn't the name mean anything to you, ring any bells? He is the Night Stalker!"

When he hears the man's title, Harry's eyes bug out. _That_ certainly rings a few bells! "You...you're the...back in the...I mean, thirty years ago, but...that was you?!" Harry points at him, almost accusingly. Kolchak grins bashfully, shrugging off the man's praise.

"Like you said, thirty years ago. Still, there's some fight left in this old bag of bones yet. Whaddaya say? Do we have a deal?" He holds his hand out to the wizard.

Harry chuckles, shaking the man's hand. "Deal. Try and keep up."

"Oh, I'll try. Great running into you again, Hrothbert. Take care now."

"Oh, you know I'll leave a light burning in the window until your return. Don't you think you're being a bit on the hasty side, though? More research is needed before you two gallivanting crusaders head out on your latest snipe hunt."

Bob's right, and Harry knows it. Gesturing into the hall, Harry leads the way down to the lab, one that isn't typically viewed by civilians, but somehow this guy seems like the appropriate exception. They enter and Kolchak looks around, not quite in awe but in interest. He seems to already know not to touch anything.

"Quite a place you've got down here."

Passing gracefully through the wall, Bob follows his friend's line of sight, "We make do."

"I'd say you do."

"Well, it's not much, but it's home," Harry agrees, heading for the bookcase and pulling out a few volumes at random in hopes of hitting on something by sheer luck.

They look through some books together, trying to find a pattern or some identifying characteristic they could latch onto. All around the areas that had been targeted by...whatever it was...seemed to be hung with a malevolent aura after the attack. Accidents happening in a small radius, street lamps shorting out, that kind of thing. Nothing huge, but it appears that whatever they're dealing with is spreading concentrated bad luck wherever it goes.

"The site Murphy and I were just at looked like something had been battering at the beams holding up the next floor. There were scratches on the floor, too, like something sharp and heavy was dragging along."

Kolchak gets out a map of the city. "Now, how many of these incidents have there been?"

"This one is number six. The first few got brushed over because they didn't look too remarkable, but as there got to be more of them it got peoples' attention. Looks like there's been one each day this week. If we could find out where the next target was, we could be there to stop it."

"And where exactly have these all occurred?"

Now that they're putting their heads together, Dresden has to admit to himself that he appreciates having Kolchak there to be a sounding board. Bob is always good for that, of course, but he's actually seen one of the sites. Bob hangs around in the back, ready to give his two cents worth once they start narrowing down the possibilities. Right now, what they know is too vague to be of much use.

"I'll have to call Murphy and see if she can tell me. Here's where the last one was," he circles the latest spot. "But this is the first one I've been called in on. I guess they finally figured it was looking odd."

"You're lucky you've got someone out there who's willing to listen. Especially if your explanations and methods aren't exactly standard-issue," Kolchak points out.

Harry reads on, rubbing his forehead as he thinks. Absently, he starts stroking Bob's skull again. He realizes a moment later what he's doing, looking up guiltily at Bob, who doesn't seem bothered in the slightest.

The news reporter takes note of this habit as well, and bravely brings it up. "What, is he like your security blanket or something?"

Dresden tries to brush it off with a light chuckle, giving the evil-looking thing a fond glance, "Something like that. I...like to keep it in sight. I don't know what I'd do if anything happened..." he trails off, looking up at his ghost again. Turning his gaze back to Kolchak, he fidgets nervously, not sure how or why he's saying this to a total stranger, "He's my best friend." Looking back up at Bob he addresses him directly, "The best friend I'll ever have."

"How sentimental," the ghost drawls, doing a poor job of concealing how touched he is. He'd always suspected there was more to their relationship than what was on the surface, but they'd never actually said anything out loud. "If you must know, the feeling is mutual. Detestable of a thing as it may be," he continues, giving his skull an accusing look, "I feel better...safer...when I know you have it with you." He stops short of saying how good it feels when Harry holds it. It's not exactly a sensation, but it's like the connection, the tether. This one, however, is one he'd forged of his own free will: as deep and unbreakable a bond as any magical one they might have already. He feels it in his very heart, in whatever essence of his it still unchained. To be so bound to Harry Dresden was sweeter than any memory of freedom he has left.

An easy smile comes to both of their faces, and it's as though they're alone in the lab as usual. Their guest clears his throat gruffly, looking awkwardly between the wizard and the ghost, "Yes, it's all very touching, but can we get back to business?"

Snapping out of it, Harry turns back to his book and Bob resumes his vulture-like hovering. "I'll see if Murphy can give us a hand with the other locations." He picks up the map and the skull, and goes back out into the front room. Picking up the rotary phone, he dials up his colleague's cell.

"Hey, it's me. Look, I'm doing some work on this 'vandalism' case, and I just wondered if you had the locations of the...Oh, you do? That's great. Where...? Uh huh...great..." he starts marking the map, finding as he does so that all of the attacks occurred within an equal distance from a rather distinct local landmark. _And I might just have a pretty good idea what we're dealing with._

"Murphy? Are you...superstitious at all?"

"Harry..." her voice is warning and irritable.

"Okay, stupid question, but do you follow any sports?"

He can almost _hear_ the look on her face as she processes what one question has to do with the other. "Not really, why?"

Looking at his map, at the ring he'd just made of the reported incidents, he taps his pencil idly. "Look, I could spare you the details and just do the job, or I could take an hour or two explaining, have you not believe a word of it, and come up with an alternate story that you can accept and understand."

There's a light slapping sound on the other end, as though Murphy had just clapped an annoyed hand over her face. "So you're saying the locations are a clue, like there's a pattern? What's this about?"

Dresden braces himself for this, takes a deep breath, and answers, "They're all equidistant from one address: 1060 West Addison."

"1060 West Addison?"

"Wrigley Field." With that, he hangs up.

"Well," Bob breathes in a satisfied air, "Now that you have your answers, would you mind sharing them with the rest of the class?"

"Wrigley Field has been largely believed to be under a curse by most devout Cubs fans. The story is, a man was trying to get in to see them play during the World Series, he was barred from entering because he had his pet goat with him. The story goes on to say he cursed the team and the stadium, and they haven't been in the World Series since."

Bob ponders this, "So you believe these acts are related to this supposed curse?"

"The last one we visited had beams that looked like they'd been battered into."

"Like a goat," the ghost monotones incredulously.

His lukewarm response from his old mentor does nothing to dampen his enthusiasm. "Exactly! Look, you know if you think hard enough on something, if you really focus, even regular people can bring something about."

"So you believe that every summer a city full of sports fanatics...fixate on this curse of their home team until it creates...what? Some sort of amateur thought-form?" After finishing his summary, Bob pauses, startled at the implications. "Dresden..._this_ is bad!"

"Ya think?"

Bob's expression is drawn and grim. He stares unseeing before him as he ponders the implications. "No, I mean _very bad._ These people believed so hard in this curse that they created a literal scape-goat for their bad luck...and now it's real, and it's spreading. Thought-forms in general are not known for their...stability," Bob continues lecturing, gesturing fluidly in the air as he circles the room. "And those are the ones conjured up by professionals. This! This one was _unintentionally _called into existence by a pack of civilians! It takes power, yes, to create something. A lot for your average wizard or sorcerer, it should be impossible for ordinary people."

"Except there are about a million of them, all holding onto the idea. All that energy would be enough to bring it about."

By now, Bob is highly agitated, Kolchak keeps dodging him so he doesn't get walked through. "Harry, I've done things I'm not proud of, I've used dangerous Dark magic regardless of the consequences...but even I knew better than to dabble in thought-forms! They're impossible to control!"

"All right, then," Kolchak mutters, "So now what? I might be wrong here, but I thought the best way to kill a thought-form is to kill the guy who thought it up, or force him to undo it somehow. We're dealing with a whole lot of people, not even all of them are in the area, and they don't realize they're doing it. We can't go around scaring innocent people, no one would believe us if we told them what they were doing. Hell, we'd end up with straight-jackets in a padded cell the minute we tried to explain anything. Trust me."

"You're right, Mr. Kolchak. Then how would we get out of that? Words in the air?" Harry gives a sidelong glance to his ghost, remembering the time he'd been kidnapped and Bob left clues of how to find him.

"You're assuming that Lieutenant Murphy would come running to your aid once again," Bob dryly remarks in a doubtful tone.

"Are you saying she wouldn't?" Harry cocks an eyebrow.

"Do you really want to take that chance?" Bob intones with a devilish grin, relishing his friend squirming. "I don't know if you'd thought of this before, Dresden, but there _are _downsides to being a veritable recluse. I'm flattered that you think so much of my company that you'd enjoy it to the exclusion of all else, but really..."

Grimacing at Bob's grim yet accurate portrait of his life, he snarls, "I'm not a recluse! I go outside, I have a job, I do things!"

"Yes, but at the expense of a respectable social life," the ghost drones.

Kolchak watches the pair's ribbing at each other, trying not to laugh at the wizard's expense. "So...any other methods of dealing with a thought-form? One that doesn't involve getting shipped off to a mental institution?"

Now Bob resumes his pacing, "If we had a way to counter it... This creature seems to spread petty misfortune in its wake. Something that would emanate positive energy to cancel out the bad."

"How many of us do you think it would take to stop this thing?"

"Us? Harry, are you suggesting that we round up other wizards? Oh, I'm _sure_ Morgan would just _love_ to help out with this," his sarcasm is smooth and fluent, dripping succulently from his tongue like honey.

A slow smile creeps up on Kolchak's face as an idea dawns on him. He reaches in his pocket and takes out a season schedule from his wallet. "I'll tell you what we need. The Cubs need to win! Then everyone would quit moping and start thinking positive!"

Despite the reporter's glowing reputation among certain circles, Harry still questions his solution, "That's the best you can come up with? A few wins for the home team?"

"You're not a fan, I take it," Kolchak grunts dismissively. "You'd be amazed at how quickly 'Maybe Next Year' becomes 'We Believe'."

Bob looks thoughtful; he's actually so distracted by this new idea that he walks right through Harry, who jumps away with a yelp. "Oops. Sorry," the fair man offers lamely. "You know, that would do it. It would also explain why this city hasn't been torn to shreds years ago by this creature. It goes in cycles. Isn't it obvious? It must only manifest itself fully when people are at the peak of disappointment. If they could break the chain-"

"If _we_ could break the chain..." Harry ponders aloud; hearing it from Bob as well added to the plan's credibility. "It would cease to exist."

"At least until next season, but we'll deal with that when it comes," Kolchak shrugs.

"However, there may be a slight complication," Bob adds dismally. "In order to 'get a few wins' as you say, we'd need to get rid of the curse plaguing the playing field, and the bad luck surrounding it caused by the thought-form."

Harry wasn't expecting this response, he sits back down to avoid getting walked through again. "You believe in the curse now?"

"Well, goats are quite adept at amplifying and delivering a curse. Traditionally, of course," Bob adds in a bored tone.

"Tradition, right," Harry repeats vaguely, slouching down in his seat. "So, I'll see what I can do about clearing away the negativity."

Bob stands over him, enjoying the temporary effect of towering over the man, "And you'd better bring something stronger than some sage and a few quartz crystals. That's a good place to start, but something tells me that this thing means business. And if I were you I'd bring protection."

"You make it sound like I'm going on a date when you say it like that," Harry smirks, peering up at his friend, getting a roll of the eyes in return.

"I'm serious, Harry, take precautions for once," the ghost chides like a mother hen, stopping short of laying a hand on his shoulder. He snatches it away with a scowl and resumes his pacing. "You and Mr. Kolchak are facing something highly unstable and very dangerous. At least think of him."

Dresden runs a hand over his face, "I will, I will! Bob, I promise we'll be careful." He traces a hand over his shield bracelet—it's certainly saved his life many times—wondering if there was a way to extend a field of protection around their elderly friend. _Typical...he's treating me like I'm the 11-year old kid who first met him all those years ago. _He stops at that thought, recalling the day they were first introduced, and how Bob had been watching over him ever since. Looking up at him grudgingly again. _He's just looking after me, like always. He can turn on the snark at a moment's notice but it just means he cares. _

_ "He's cranky," he'd first observed as a boy. "Yes, and very smart," his uncle had told him then. __How very true. _While it hadn't seemed like the start of a beautiful friendship, it had certainly turned out that way.

"What do you think, Kolchak? Do you have anything you can carry with you for protection?"

The news man takes a seat next to him, "I've picked up my share of amulets along the way. Not sure how many are genuinely effective, but I'm still here, aren't I?" He pulls out what looks like a charm bracelet, hung with many different mismatched tokens and trinkets. He touches each of them in turn, explaining. "A twist of copper, to guard against witchcraft, silver cross for the vampires, wolfsbane, a few for general protection and purity I picked up at a street fair..." he smiles fondly as he shows him the last one. "A friend of mine sent me this after a case back at the turn of the millennium, a Celtic friendship knot done in iron, to guard against faerie magic. Although she told me she'd demand it back if she ever found out I fell for the 'old fourth wish gag'. Sweet gal, had spunk. Irish, you know."

Harry smiles, examining it himself, able to verify that at least a good portion of his charms are valid and functional. It might not be as strong as his own, but it should offer some measure of protection. This man does know his stuff. Hoping to hear more about his history, he taps the Celtic knot charm. "Who was she? A girlfriend?"

Kolchak snorts back a laugh and brushes the suggestion away, "Nah, nothing like that. I'm pretty sure she was spoken for, actually, and I'm too old for her. Just another day at the office, right? Another job, another pretty face?"

This kind of talk from the old rascal gets a laugh out of the guarded wizard, "Oh, you know it. That's why I put out my shingle."

"So what do you say we go back out to the targeted areas, see if you can do your hocus-pocus and clear away the bad stuff, drawing in the good. Then we'll tackle the goat."

Harry nods, "Sounds like a plan. Try and keep up." He pauses, turns back. "Fourth wish gag?"

"Yeah, apparently according to her it's for tourists and makes you look like an idiot."

"Sounds about right."

Together, the three of them go back into the lab. Harry looks at his rack of ingredients with a thoughtful expression, tapping his chin with a pencil. Bob watches him, his mouth drawn into a pensive pout as they examine the same jars and bottles.

"You're thinking what I'm thinking, aren't you?" He mutters, sounding rather pleased and proud of his old student. "All I can say is, be careful."

Harry nods, starts taking things off of shelves. Bob hovers, pointing out others he'd need.

"Remember, Harry, thought-forms are air and fire. Use water and spirit against it. A frost spell should subdue it temporarily."

"Then we do like in Swiss Family Robinson and whip out the coconut bombs," Harry grins with relish, grinding powders together, feeling his magic flowing in his fingers. It's a satisfying feeling; he often pities ordinary people for not having such a pleasure at their command. Bob watches, enjoying the process vicariously through his pupil and master, they even breathe together. Neither of them explains what they're doing to Kolchak, but the old reporter trusts that they know what they're doing. The way these two play against each other reminds Kolchak of the old days with his friend Tony Vinccenzo. The unspoken fondness under layers of quips and snark, the respect they had for each other but never discussed, and the very bonds of trust between them. Kolchak sighs, fans himself with his hat, missing him even more now. _Well, I'll be next, and not far behind,_ he thinks morbidly.

"It must be conquered with an agent of purity," Bob tells him matter-of-factly, "to keep it from regenerating next year. We want this done away with, not simply pushed back for the time being."

"Right, right," Harry mutters. "Sunlight, holy water, silver," he recites absently, shoving articles into his bag, including a silver hatchet he'd spritzed with holy water. "You think...?"

"The mirror trick? Simple, but powerful. Be careful," Bob says again, looking increasingly agitated, like he suddenly can't bear the thought of sending his friend out to face such a creature. If he had a body, he would be hugging him now, as though his love for him would offer some protection.

Harry nods, looking seriously at his friend. "I will, I promise. I'll be right back. Don't worry, we've got it covered."

Bob steadies himself with a curt nod, "Yes, of course. You've faced worse. I'm...quite proud of you, you know."

"Thanks."

Kolchak butts in, hoping to break up the tension between these two. "Come on, Dresden, daylight's burning away. I don't know about you, but I wouldn't want to face this thing at night."

"Right, right. I'm coming." He shoves the aforementioned sage and crystals as well as a lighter into his bag, a jar of white powder and several large green pillar candles. He pours the ground up mixture he'd just concocted into another jar and tucks it in his inside pocket next to his wand. He slips a piece of chalk as well as a stick of charcoal in his coat pocket, grabs his hockey stick, and he's ready to go.

"Good luck, both of you," Bob says, wishing he was able to help them more.

"See ya, Hrothbert! Take care, now," Kolchak farewells the ghost.

They hop into the Jeep, Kolchak takes the map and they start hitting the previous places the entity had visited. At each one, Harry draws a warding symbol over the point of origin, wafting sage smoke around to cleanse it before sprinkling in the sparkling white drawing powder to draw in positive energy to the surrounding area. Soon after, the air itself seems purer; a friendlier, happier mood seems to settle in. One by one, the targeted points are purified of their malevolent aura and charged with good. It's wearing work, however.

"Doing all right, there, wizard?" Kolchak remarks, as Harry hops back in the Jeep. He's starting to look tired.

"I'm okay. Just one stop left." The day is drawing to a close as they pull up to the Friendly Confines.

"Showdown at sundown, eh? I like it. I've got your back." He looks down at his bracelet, fingering the Celtic charm, muttering in an undertone, "Too bad it couldn't just be pixies again or I'd be all set. Wish me luck, faerie-child," he adds, kissing the token. With that, he hops out and follows Harry. They're both hit by a marrow-chilling feeling of dread. This is definitely the place. It practically reeks of malevolent aura. The others were nothing compared to this. The impulse to run is strong, but the two men steady each other to stay to the task. Sure enough, as they draw nearer they hear a trotting sound of hooves. Glowing red eyes peer at them, giving both men pause. Black clouds billow out from the creature, pulsating with ill will. Harry gulps and grasps his hockey stick tighter.

A nearby lamp post falls over, Kolchak pulls the wizard out of the way and they fall to the ground together, the heavy metal post barely missing them. "That was close!" the news man announces.

Harry wields his hockey stick, closing his eyes in concentration, holding out a hand. He draws from the setting sun's rays and is able to dimly reflect it back at the goat. It recoils, scampering back into shadows. There isn't enough sunlight left to fully repel it, only to keep it cornered in these last few moments.

Switching from defense to offense, the wizard tries shooting a bright blue beam at it; it misses widely. He tries again and again...The creature canters mockingly, lowering his horns at the wizard, smacking the concrete with its hoof, ready to charge.

"We're right in the eye of it," Kolchak tells him, "You can't count on a lucky shot here. Concentrate!"

"Hey, how about you do it if you're so smart?!" Harry grunts, annoyed at his inability to hit the blasted thing. He'd already been feeling drained from purifying the previous sites. Finally, when it's right in front of them, a hit lands, and the goat is frozen.

Kolchak clutches his heart, "That was too close!"

They feel the negative aura surrounding them lessen, but not by much. Making the most of his opportunity, Harry dumps the mixture he'd ground up in the lab into a can lying in the street. He bends the top back on and sets it in front the goat and backs off, lighting the green candles in a circle all around the beast. Not a moment too soon, as the frost spell is wearing off. The goat staggers, still weakened by the cold, his energy draining out. It sees the can at its feet and eats it.

"What? What was that?" Kolchak demands, having been left out of the loop when he was making the mixture.

With a short laugh of triumph, Harry tells him, "I call it a Can of Vorpal Slaying. I figured if it acted like a real goat it would be the best way to deliver the stuff. Just watch."

Sure enough, the thought-form lets out a wild dying shriek, having just swallowed a magical grenade. Harry draws his hatchet and cuts off the creature's head. It mists away in a cloud of green smoke.

Then he takes two candles at a time, drizzling the area with melted green wax, and sprinkling it with the glittering white drawing powder he'd used in the other sites. He draws the same protective good luck symbols, and for this last one he takes out a handful of pointed quartz crystals, holds them in his hands, charging them. Far from depleting his energy, this act seems to restore the wizard, and when he opens his hand, they float out in a circle formation, spinning to catch and reflect the sun's last rays. In addition, they draw away any residual negativity remaining from the attacks, gathering it together in a pulsing, misshapen black lump in the center. Then, with his hockey stick in his other hand, he envelopes it in light. He pours the last candle over it. It falls out of the air, hits the pavement and melts away. Again, with his staff, he steers the resulting foulness into the sewer.

"Cubs win," Kolchak dryly remarks, whacking the wizard on the back with a grin. "Holy cow."

The next day, as Harry explained the goings-on to Murphy and the rest of the police department, Carl Kolchak sat at his old typewriter with a fond grin, dictating aloud as he typed.

"They say to be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it; the same can be said for what you fear or dread. You might just get that, too. The mind is a strange and powerful thing, one should always choose thoughts with care. Did we break the curse? I'd like to think we did. Personally, I'd love to see them get in the World Series in my lifetime, but past experience tells me not to hold my breath."

He leans back in his chair, takes the season schedule out of his pocket and tosses it on the table with a grin. "Maybe this year."


End file.
